The Back Breaking Of Saint
lifetimes of wavering sunsets,
our one and only attempt at
finding value outside of heaven.
a final journey to complete the crusade..
we are ghosts finding a place in the divine plan,
applying for a position in the ranks of humanity, among
the weeds that stand courageously in the quicksand.
no doubt we're all sinking, we are roses wilting, beauty
we stand all-mighty against the clones, the
mirrored mimics of ourselves and each other-
our sisters and our brothers.
separation of breathing pedophiles;
passions? wealth? careers? life-style?
in a happy sort of acceptance of just existing kind of way.
I’m not...... lacking vital suicidal ability, too
afraid to follow through, content to be in absence of strength.
we're all human, too human,
above and below forgiving,
full of needful things-
instilling belief in the hopeless,
living for a sunrise that isn't wayward, and
a horizon that isn't lifeless.
come home come home oh prodigal son!
after so many years
you stare at images of yourself, holding
the reaper’s hand- who
was at first only vaguely visible in pictures.
the elements of rapture;
redemption, baptism, salvation:
break the bonds of indifference that
conflict with your spiritual awareness-
sever the fingers of the devil, wash in holy water-
cry soulful acid-like tears-
repent for one thousand years, and pray
the next generation is clean enough to be spared.